I slowdanced to "Stairway to Heaven."
Classic rock radio was the only station in my high school car. "Stairway to Heaven" visited my days often.
I road tripped listening to "Stairway to Heaven," both the original and symphonic.
I spent an entire night with my best friend deciphering the lyrics of "Stairway to Heaven" by ear. (We were so wrong.)
I don't care to learn classic guitar licks, but I can play "Stairway to Heaven."
Wayne will never get to play "Stairway to Heaven" in the guitar shop.
No film I've seen has "Stairway to Heaven" in the soundtrack.
I heard "Stairway to Heaven" cranked on my best friend's dad's souped-up stereo, which is kind of like putting it under a microscope. I was young and absorbed by the ghost notes on John Bonham's snare.
I saw Page & Plant in 1998, lost my mind, and the highlight was still watching Jimmy Page play just a measure of "Stairway to Heaven" as the ending of "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You."
I've heard "Stairway to Heaven" hundreds and hundreds of times. And I've heard "Stairway to Heaven" backwards more than anyone probably should.
Epic rock songs are in A-minor.
Epic rock songs start quiet.
Epic rock songs have the drums enter later.
Epic rock songs don't repeat, they one-up themselves.
Epic rock songs climax with a guitar solo.
Epic rock songs aren't crowned, they are played.
Epic rock songs are Eight. Minutes. Long.
Finite space of vinyl be damned. In fact, all the more reason.
Take heart: The forests will echo with laughter.